Category Archives: writing

Saurday update

Weekend updates are a rarity as I have no internet connection at home. We were getting raped by brighthouse and my wife decided to go to DSL.

Requiem for the internet

My internet is gone

my modem

lays on the lawn

like the colored

leaves of fall

It is haunted

by the signals it once received

mocked by the cables

so close

Their information left

like water

leaking on the floor

I wonder now

in the dark still of night

Why, why ?

Did she ever

decide on DSL

Yeah, it didn’t work out. DSL is not as fast as broadband, as a matter of fact it was not fast at at all. In fact, at least 50% of the time it did not work at all. Right in the middle of something it would drop off line and stay that way for 20 minutes.

We would put in a call to Century link and they would tell us that they checked the settings and it was fine. In the end my wife tore the entire set up out by the roots and chucked it out the front door and told them to pick their crap up.

I am fine with it. Here at my office I have the super smoking business package to create mayhem with.

Forget the stress dog

Stress chickens, that’s what they are.

So, my wife and Stacey decided that it would be prudent for us to become chicken farmers. They went out and bought 6 chicks, all laying hens, and committed us to egg production. The hens are an even split of “Production red” and “Plymouth rock” and the hopes are to produce enough eggs for two families.

This is a first for the ladies and I myself have not done chicken ranching since my days in Kiddie prison. But we are game and are going to give it a go anyway. If it doesn’t work out we figure that we can switch over to doves or Homing pigeons.

Over the past week we have been building a bad ass 4′ X 8′ coop to house the hens; It is elevated 30″ and will have an 8′ x 12′ run.  Right now Stacey is in the back of the shop at my business, putting the final coats of paint on it. Eventually the ladies are going to pretty it up by painting vines and flowers all over it.

The chicks have been living in Stacey’s living room in a big Tupperware tub, but are growing by leaps and bounds. We are hoping to have the coop to completion  by Sunday and be able to move the hens in. When it is all finished up I will post some pics of it.

Wish us luck…..

Custer’s last stand; Lessons from little Big horn

I am sure that everyone is familiar with the battle of little Big horn and what has been coined “Custer’s last stand”. It is probably one of the most analyzed battles in American military history. Still, even with that being said, there are important lessons to be taken from it that are relevant today.

It is a given that Custer’s 7th cavalry was vastly out numbered as they took to the field. Modern estimates place the number of Lakota and other warriors at between 1500 and 1800 men. The U.S. cavalry on the other hand, totaled 879 including Custer’s contingent of 700 troops. All told, the U.S. troops, based on varying estimates would be outnumbered 2-3 to 1.

I know that those don’t sound like good odds, but here’s the rub; They were expecting to be outnumbered.

The cavalry had estimated that they would be facing up to 1500 warriors led by Sitting Bull. Even with this numerical advantage on the native’s side, Custer turned down another contingent of Calvary and a number of Gatling guns. He was supremely confident that he could overcome any number that he encountered because of superior firepower. He was so confident in fact, that he had no qualms about splitting his force into  3 divisions when he attacked.

I guess that right about now lesson number 1 is becoming obvious; Don’t be over confident. A battle is fluid and dynamic and the results can never be entirely calculated ahead of time. Never assume that you are better than your enemy and that victory will be a result of just that.

Yes, I know that lesson #1 is lame and obvious but I do have some better material for the next one. Here is how the whole battle unfolded at the beginning:

“Lt. Colonel George A. Custer’s field strategy was designed to engage noncombatants at the encampments at the Battle of the Little Big Horn, so as to capture women, children, the elderly or disabled [19]:297 to serve as hostages and human shields. Custer’s battalions were poised to “ride into the camp and secure noncombatant hostages”[20] and “forc[e] the warriors to surrender”.[21] Author Evan S. Connell observed that if Custer could occupy the village before widespread resistance developed, the Sioux and Cheyenne warriors “would be obliged to surrender, because if they started to fight, they would be shooting their own families.”[19]:312[22]

Custer asserted in his book My Life on the Plains, published just two years before the Battle of the Little Big Horn, that:

“Indians contemplating a battle, either offensive or defensive, are always anxious to have their women and children removed from all danger…For this reason I decided to locate our [military] camp as close as convenient to [Chief Black Kettle’s Cheyenne] village, knowing that the close proximity of their women and children, and their necessary exposure in case of conflict, would operate as a powerful argument in favor of peace, when the question of peace or war came to be discussed.”[

But in reality this is what actually transpired when the force that was led by Major Reno came upon the village:

“He ordered his troopers to dismount and deploy in a skirmish line, according to standard army doctrine. In this formation, every fourth trooper held the horses for the troopers in firing position, with five to ten yards separating each trooper, officers to their rear and troopers with horses behind the officers. This formation reduced Reno’s firepower by 25 percent. As Reno’s men fired into the village and killed, by some accounts, several wives and children of the Sioux leader, Chief Gall (in Lakota, Phizí), mounted warriors began streaming out to meet the attack”

That’s right, instead of positioning and capturing, Reno’s troops opened fire into the village killing women and children. The response was instantaneous and over whelming and Reno and his men had to make a hasty and disorganized retreat.

And here is lesson number 2: Never judge what the response of a person or people is going to be when an action you impose on them ignites their sense of outrage.

Custer and his men were not new at fighting Indians and had always in the past succeeded though superior firepower and an effective strategy to use it. But this time it was different; their foe did not fear their weapons. Eyewitness accounts from the battle field attest to the fact that all 3 of Custer’s contingents were met by charge after charge of enraged warriors.

They had gone past caring and now were intent on nothing more than over whelming and killing. It is kind of like what happened in Ireland on bloody Sunday; the response to death and tyranny became rage instead of fear. After driving Reno’s men out of the village and across the river they engaged Custer in a series of running battles that would ultimately end in the death of all U.S troops involved.

Now here is lesson number 3: Better is not always better. Something that you view as inferior may actually give you a tactical advantage if used correctly. Yes, I know that most of us would like to have stinger missiles and so would have the Sioux, but that’s not happening.

Instead, what seemed at outset to be a distinct disadvantage for the indians   actually turned out to their benefit; The lowly bow and arrow. As the battle progressed Custer made a series of retreats that eventually took him to the high ground on what is known as Custer hill. At the top of the hill Custer ordered all of the horses to be shot and used for cover.  The rest of the troops took cover in a series of ravines that run along and down  the hill.

With that positioning Custer and his men were pretty well dug in against conventional fire. The only slight problem is that bows can shoot over things. So, if you happen to be hiding behind something, you are screwed when the arrows start to rain down on you.

Would the Indians have prevailed without the bows? Yes, they would have, but the casualties would have been much higher without them. Their outdated technology saved them a bunch of grief and expedited the end of the battle.

So in the end, it would seem that if we try to think outside of the box and utilize what assets we have, that if used properly, they might actually give us an advantage. Okay, I will give you the fact that they have apples, but hey, I’ve got me some oranges.

Drone strike anyone?


I wield my words viciously

Like a knife

I slash at her

As I rape her

Hold her down and penetrate her

Blood showers from my blade

As I overwhelm her

But slowly my ravishes

Thrust after thrust

Turn into love

And I wonder

What have I done?

A little explanation on this one.  It was written about a year and a half ago after a particularly vicious fight with my my wife. As most married people know, it is easier sometimes to hurt the one you love the most and know the best.

You know how it is; you know all of their triggers and weak spots. I am not normally a cruel person nor is my wife ,but in this instance, I started throwing low blows while we were going at it. Immediately , I regretted it because I could see that I had deeply hurt her and she is the last person that I want to do that to.

So, there it is. Yeah, I was really an asshole that night.

Merry Christmas, you Grinch

Yesterday, I stopped at a dollar store after work to get a pack of smokes. When I went up to the counter there was an elderly couple standing in line already. The cashier was ringing them up and putting their goods into a bucket that they had just purchased. They had a bottle of dandruff shampoo, a pack of cheap razors and some soap.

When the cashier finished ringing it all up the total was $10.52. The gentleman expressed surprise that it came up to that much and stated that he didn’t think he had that much on him. He pulled out his wallet and started counting singles out. When it as all said and done, between he and his wife , they managed to come up with $9.00, a buck 52 short.

So, the old guy starts looking around for something to deep six from the purchase so he can afford it. I am looking at the cashier, a young girl about 19 and I can tell that it is killing her.  I didn’t have any cash on me at the time or I would have just ponied the $1.52 up.

Instead I looked at the cashier and told her to grab me my pack of smokes, ring their stuff up with mine and I would take the cash that was short. She caught on right away and started the transaction while the old folks were still searching their pockets for more change.

She kept telling them not to worry about it, but they were both stone deaf and kept asking her the various prices so they could pull something out. Regardless, she finishes the transaction, ringing my smokes up with it. At that point I walk around the couple and up to the keypad to swipe my bank card. When I move into position, the lady looks over at me says something.

The reason I say “Says something” is because I have a perforated eardrum in my left ear. It doesn’t always pick up sound right and I often have to translate what was said if some speaks to my left. There will be times when my wife says “Can you get a log out?” and I have to sit there for a minute until it makes sense….Yes! I can let the dog out!

So, what she said to me was “You know,  nah nah nah to be spected”. I sat there with it churning around in my brain while I swiped my card. The cashier quickly took the bucket, stuffed the goods back in and pushed it at them to take. She then handed me the smokes and cash and said thank you.

At that point I turned around and walked out of the store and got into my truck. As I was backing out of the parking space, the old couple hobbled out arm in arm. I noticed that the woman would not make eye contact with me as I started to pull out. At first I thought it was a little odd and then suddenly I finished translating what she said.

What she said was “You know, he needs to be respected”. Deaf as a rock, she had no idea what was going on. She thought that I was cutting in line in front of her husband because I was in a hurry to get a pack of smokes.

Merry Christmas, you Grinch

Sit back and listen to your skin grow

It has been incredible since I stopped following my doctors bad advice. Over the past week I have regrown a piece of skin the size of a nickel. It has been pretty interesting to watch, especially under magnification.(Yes, I’m a science geek)
In addition to that, something else interesting happened.
I was left with a little piece of nail about a 1/4″ long that he had sewed the skin flap to. That nail has since grown and tissue has grown all the way to the top of the nail. Where there was nothing behind that part of the nail is now starting to pink up.
In other words I have actually regrown part of my finger tip.
I know that stuff like that isn’t supposed to happen,but it did. I will now be only very mildly maimed. I have been doing TENS treatments on it, after doing a bunch research, and wonder if that has anything to do with it. In another day or two, I think I will be able to officially say that it is healed.
Now, as I said a few months ago when my other hand that I pulverized with a sledge healed, I’m back…And I’m bad.
That is until I do something else.

Pink lunch box

That little pink lunch box
Looks empty
Sitting on the shelf
But it’s not
It hurts me to look into it
Because it is still packed full
With my love
My heart
Dreams and aspirations
That were gently laid
Into it everyday
Packaged in neatly
So they would all fit
I think of those little hands
That carried it everyday
That carried everything
Packed into it
And it melts my heart
It makes me wonder
Why I even opened it
God, I miss her in the mornings

Now I’m worried

What me worry?

All of a sudden, things have changed. My once forsaken and hideous finger has decided to do miracles. It has re-grown a tip, producing skin and tissue at an incredible rate. What on Thursday was a nasty zombie finger has become by Monday, pink and healthy.

One small section still needs to cover over, less than a pencil eraser, but I can tell that it is done. Finger drama gone and finished. I have a cabin booked for the week of Christmas in the N.C mountains and it would seem that I will not be spending my time eating pain pills with a newly amputated finger. Instead it will be fireplace and hot tub and time to catch up on reading.

Oh,yes and a bottle of 18 Yr. Scotch.

And then there is the Christmas tree in my house; It’s hideous. Really.

My wife is known for the elegant statement that she makes yearly with her beautiful creations. But not this year. The tree looks like it is in bondage and being punished for its misdeeds. There is so much garland wrapped on it that you can’t see the lights underneath. It is actually more of a garland stand than a Christmas tree.

But it was done by my grand daughters with smiles and laughs and delicate fluttering fingers. One I have never met, the other, the little love of my life, I haven’t seen in 8 Yrs.

Yeah, 8 Yrs.

We are doing the house all up for them so they can have a Christmas while we are gone. Real Christmas’s have been far and few between for these two.

I know that I need say no more on that subject.

But why worry? Why now? When everything is going so good?

Well, that’s the point. Everything is just going too damn good.

And that makes me worry.

Just to end Friday on an up note: Guy gets the crap kicked out of him by Sponge Bob and Mickey mouse in road rage incident

Gruesome finger photo: Day 5 after finger shortening

I put it below some other photos so you don’t have to see it if you don’t want to.

Johnny Cash’s finger

My left finger in May

My recently shortened finger. It smarted…

Cheer the hell up….

My wife always manages to cheer me up no matter what the circumstance. After my Aw shit moment on Saturday night, when I took the top half inch of my trigger finger off, we decided that a trip to the ER was in order.

We got into the back pretty quickly, but after that it was a 2 hour wait for the doctor to do anything. When he finally came in, he pulled the bandage off and examined the finger then put an order in with the nurse.

One of the things that he ordered was a bone chipper from the O.R. because, as he explained, he would have to crush the bone with the chipper and remove it. Apparently the bone can’t be too close to the surface and has to be below a certain amount of tissue to heal.

So here I am on a little stretcher/bed with my elbow on the treatment table pointing up at the ceiling with my bloody finger, waiting for the nurse to arrive with the bone chipper. I think that my wife could tell by the look on my face that I was really looking forward to this Dr. crushing and then removing the bone from my fingertip.

So she leans over and kisses me on the cheek and points at my finger which now has a perfectly flat top “Do you know what the upside to that is?” she asked. I shook my head to the negative. “Well, now you can balance a dinner plate on your finger”

She almost dropped me, the doctor and the nurse on the floor laughing. Can’t argue with humor like that.

(BTW the ER nurse actually had to leave the room when he did the bone. Unfortunately, I didn’t have that option)


I always wondered where her love went
It was like it was bled from her
A slit vein that ran dry
I was the only one that she gave it to
And I was young and greedy
And I think that I took it all
Used it up
A hungry pup nursing at the teat
And there was none left over for anyone else
She became withered and dry
And by the time her own children came
That love had been replaced by hate
Maybe it had just been killed
And that hate was like the darkness
That is already in a room
Just waiting for the light to be turned off
And then it takes over everything
It didn’t help
That it had been infused with heroin along the way
Shot sweating late at night in a seedy room
Or in the parking lot behind the strip club
But something had turned that love to hate
Solidified it in her veins
Until she was nothing
No voice
No heartbeat
She became a statue
Just hard stone
And the sad part is that she had four babies
Who tried to nurse from her cold stone tit
And tried to get some of the love that I had
But it was long used up and gone
And they had to try and survive and live
With nothing to feed on but that cold hate
And they all survived for the most part
Except for Amber
Poor Amber
In the end, I think the hate finally got her

10 seconds

My body has become purpose

My mind numbed

Waiting is now a memory

Fear has forgotten to land on me

And grasp my flesh with it’s piercing talons

I move through liquid

Everything slowed but my body

In one moment I will go through that door

10 seconds from death

I feel a sense of exhilaration

Love does not speak tonight

Love does not speak tonight
It pants
In warm whispers in your ear
With fingers trailing silken skin
Tracing soft and subtle curves
It pants
In hot and hurried breath
It licks
It bites
Salt and wet
‘Til torrid passion
Is finally met
Love does not speak tonight
But sighs gently in your ear

A letter to my father

How can I rip poetry from my soul for you?
You are part of me and so is your poetry , rooted deep within my being
I cannot put that emotion into words
The best that I can do is tear out a raw, quivering, bloody lump of feeling
You are my rock, my strength, my laugh, my goodness, my caring,
All of the good things that I am
You are my love, immovable, everlasting
You are my security and protection
The roughness of you in my memory,the scent in my nostrils,
Your face always before my eyes
You are my father, even though you are not
You loved me
Even though you didn’t have to
You are gone and God, the price I would pay
For one laugh or smile
One word of good cheer or uplifting
One story
Or one joke.
I love you

Yeah, He really was that good of a guy. It has taken me 23 yrs. to post it publicly and even after all the time that has  passed, it was still a tough write. Good men make good men and I hope that if he were still here today, that he would be proud. It’s a big set of shoes to fill but I have done my best.


Hearken to the sound that rides upon the bitter wind

Deep within the gathering gloom

comes the sound of war and doom

Hearken and woe, grieve and despair

for the dogs of war are loosed again

The long forgotten pounding drum

bellows out in deafening din

Men of glory, men of honor, rush forthwith to your arms

Siren screaming, beguiling, calling sounding out all alarms

Man has set aside his mercy, cast off all his books of learning

Now shows through his thin veneer all his deepest, darkest yearnings

Rising now from in the ground, red eyes glowing, shrieking, howling

a scream that rents the tortured night

teeth a gnashing, spitting, growling,

Comes that man thought so long dead

haired and furred from foot to head

With a growl, uncaring shrug, nary a thought or realization

he casts off that cloak of civilization.

Man has risen to conquer again.

9-11-2001 Where were you?

I remember exactly where I was like it was yesterday. I was at work and I was working with a guy named Joe off of a service truck. We were at Joe Miller’s house repairing irrigation valves in his front yard. We were both covered in mud and dirt when Joe, the home owner, emerged from the house. He walked over to where we were working and told us that we had to come inside and see what was happening on the television. We were at first hesitant because of the mud, but he insisted that we come inside.

He had a big plasma TV on the wall and as we watched they showed footage of the second plane slamming into the towers. We stared in awe at the footage for about 15 minutes until it was interrupted by a new report. Rueters said that the Pentagon had been attacked and eyewitnesses on the ground said that a helicopter had fired a missile at it. I am not making any of this up; they later backtracked on the report, but we were long gone by them.

Shortly afterwards we hit the road to head back to our shop and as we did, we discussed the significance of the helicopter. Knowing what the range of a helicopter is pretty much guarantees that it is not foreign. A military helicopter of our own flavor firing on the Pentagon has a totally different significance.

So, as we are traveling we approached an intersection and there was a car parked in the turn lane, kind of cockeyed with the door open.As we slowed down to see what was up , a guy gets out and approaches us. He’ like early forties, long hair and kind of rough. Joe rolled down the driver’s window and this is what the guy has to tell us;” I just wanted to give you guys a heads up. My brother in law is in the military and he just called my sister. He told her to grab the kids and head for the mountains as fast as she can because the birds are up and in the air.”

We looked at him in shock. This dude was serious and believed every word he said. “Who’s birds are up? Ours? Theirs? Russia?”. He indicated that he did not know and was just passing the message. He closed by wishing us well and telling us to watch our asses.From that point on we got in a serious hurry and double timed it back to our shop.

Of course when we got there, we got the real story of what was going down. My wife worked there at the time doing dispatch and she couldn’t understand the level of freaked out we had going on when we came in and frankly I don’t think she ever will.She had the TV on and quickly gave us the low down on and assured us that there were no helicopters or birds in the air.

So later that day ,Joe being all introspective, asked me what I would have done if the birds really were in the air. I told him that I would have rushed down to the corner deli, which is right down the street, and gotten two bottles of wine and a hard salami. He looked at me perplexed and queried “Why?” I told him that my wife Deborah and I would sit in the parking lot and down the bottles of wine and wait; It wouldn’t be a long wait. So then he asked what I would do with the salami.

I asked him if he knew what a nuclear shadow was and he replied that he didn’t. I explained that if you are near a building or something similar, that when you are vaporized in a nuclear blast it leaves a shadow of your form. I then told him that after drinking the wine I was going to lay down in the parking lot and put the salami between my legs.Now he was really perplexed and wanted to know for what possible reason I would do that. I told him that some day some future archaeologists, 3000 years from now might excavate this parking lot and when they did they would say ” Hey, look at this. This dude is hung like a horse.”

He just looked at me and shook his head. “You really are a sick twisted bastard, You know that?”

I know. I am.

You only thought that life sucked……

Yeah, I have had it pretty rough myself a few times. One time included living in a van for 9 months. I know where he is coming from. If you can help a brother out, please do.There is a link to Go Fund me below

“Things are becoming almost normal. Not that I’m advancing from my status of primitive living, but it seems I’m acclimating to my situation.

Raccoons have gotten three of my chickens, leaving me one hen and three roosters. In order to give the poor girl a rest, I have caged two of the roosters, and had one for dinner last night. For those of you not familiar with free range chickens, they are much ‘tougher’ than that crap you buy in the store; they actually use their muscles running around and chasing bugs and stuff…

A skunk has been stealing my eggs. And my dogs have stopped ‘protecting’ the henhouse since one got sprayed. I had to tie the poor mutt out under a tree a LONG way from the house and downwind for over a week…

Water procurement has gotten a little easier. I steal it from the state park! It’s only six miles away, and they have a spigot right past the gate. Its amazing how many five gallon jugs (my wife gets them from work; cooking oil containers) I can fit in the back of a Saturn!

I have hooked up a couple of small solar panels I had almost forgotten I had to charge a 12V marine battery, and I can run a small (six inch) fan on both sides of the bed during the night so sleeping is no longer an issue waking up to a pillow that feels like a waterlogged shredded wheat cereal and a sheet that you can ring out.

Got my camp stove for cooking. I know, I’m lazy. And ask Your Crazy Uncle Bubba about my fire-making skills! (NOT!)

Tarp keeps tearing in the Oklahoma winds, and I keep putting in new grommets and putting it back up.

Life sucks, but it beats the alternative. Still waiting on Sep 23rd to go to court over my ‘obstruction’ charge. I’ll let ya’ll know how that turns out, unless I’m in jail, in which case Rose will update ya!

Take care. PLEASE keep commenting, it makes this a lot easier knowing you’re out there.

Bless everyone of ya.



Thursday, August 28, 2014

I’m still alive! (sorry!)


Things are almost starting to feel “normal” living out here. After so long with so little, things are tending to become routine. Get up, feed the animals, check my list of things to do (all three pages), see if I can get any of them done, or at least start on a couple or so, cut some firewood, (its gonna suck this winter as it is, I don’t want to have to go out and cut wood every day!)

Still stay in touch with Jim, the reader that helped me out with the move. Called him last night, he ragged on me about my fire making skills (okay, so I couldn’t get the damn fire started worth a shit when he and Uncle Bubba came to help me move. I was rushing it, and you just can’t do that with a fire!).
I always like shooting the shit with him. He and I are a lot alike, and he’s got some good insight into life in general, and prepping, too. He’s older than me, which makes him REALLY old, and has been through a lot. Talking with him now and then helps keep me focused on what I’m really trying to accomplish here. Says he’ll come down and visit again sometime, and I gotta say I look forward to his visit. I need to prove that I really CAN start a fire….

Can’t keep up with the blogs like I used to read everyday. Jim filled me in on Uncle Bubba’s doin’s. Sorry to hear about the shit your dealing with Uncle Bubba. My thoughts are with you. Sometimes with all the crap in my current situation, I tend to get shortsighted when it comes to the plights that others go through. (And my big brother lent me his Ryobi 18volt set, so don’t sweat the drill.) Take care of yourself first and foremost my friend. Besides, its almost as much a pain to recharge the batteries as to just use my manual drill. And I’ve still got your hand truck, if you happen to get up this way, I’d love to get together again.

Okay. So now I’ve used this blog as a way to get some words out to my friends out there, and let ya’ll know a bit about what’s going on with me. Not a whole lot new, just hoping things start to come together before the weather starts to change, though I wouldn’t mind it a LITTLE cooler around here!

I’ll try to come up with something interesting soon instead of the drivel I’ve been publishing lately, but using a Library computer, I have to behave myself. Which SUCKS!

Til next time, folks. Keep on doing whatever the fuck it is you’re doing, and keep your powder dry!”



Giraffes are good kissers

She swept down from the heavens
To find me
Then eyed me
Lashes long and eyes longing
She kissed like a Goddess
If Goddesses have
Long purple tongues
And swept me off of my feet
I almost fell for her then
But I could tell
It wasn’t her
First time
And she had
Other men

*Don’t kiss a giraffe if you don’t want to be kissed back.

Let it come to war

Let it come to war (10w)

I breathe rage
The fire from my heart

I enjoy working with these 10 word poems because of their level of difficulty. It is hard to encapsulate a thought in so few words without it just being a statement. I think I really wrapped up how I feel in it.